


The Soldier In The House Of The Birds

by Bonnie131313



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Religion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:01:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6230515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonnie131313/pseuds/Bonnie131313
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young acolyte finds himself paired with a young soldier</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Soldier In The House Of The Birds

Acolyte Finch is puzzled when he receives the notification that the Administrator wishes to see him. He can think of nothing he might have done to warrant such attention. His supervising Presbyter has no complaints about his work and his trainers have no complaints about his studies.

He puzzles it over as he makes his way to the Administrator’s office. Perhaps he has been selected for some special training? He is a first year acolyte, just out of University, surely he could not have been chosen for a special project.

He presents himself before the scanner outside the Athenaeum. Only the Administrator, his staff, the Episcopate and highest level Coders and Techs may enter this building freely. The door opens immediately to reveal an aide waiting for him.

“Acolyte Finch? Please follow me.”

There are soldiers waiting outside the Administrator’s office. A young one about his own age and two older ones. A Colonel, a Captain and a Lieutenant Finch thinks. He has never had much to do with soldiers. They watch him as he follows the aide to the door. Why would soldiers be interested in him?

The aide ushers him through the door. Finch looks around the room curiously. There are shelves of books, real books made of paper. He’d seen them at University of course but he’d never been allowed to handle them. These are not even locked behind doors. 

The Administrator is sitting at his desk. Finch is mildly surprised to realize his workstation is not much different from the Administrator’s. 

“Come and sit down.” The Administrator orders, waving Finch at a chair. Finch settles nervously and waits. 

“The Machine has handed down special instructions for you Acolyte.” The Administrator says finally. He smiles at the startled expression that must be on Finch’s face.

“Me? But sir…” Finch doesn’t know what to say. Of course this isn’t the first time he has come to the attention of The Machine. He was one of hundreds selected for University training and one of dozens selected to become a Acolyte but this seems to be different.

“It happens sometimes, youngling.” The Administrator assures him. “Did you see the soldiers outside?” Finch nods. “The Machine has paired you with the youngest one.” 

“Paired?” Finch’s mind is reeling. “You mean The Machine wants me to marry him?”

“It does, indeed young Finch.” The Administrator confirms. “Is this a problem?”

“I...I am obedient to The Machine.” Finch bows his head. In truth he has had no romantic relationships since becoming an Acolyte but to be paired with a stranger,,,why would The Machine do this?

The soldier’s name is Reese and he too is obedient though Finch thinks he is not happy about the situation. Perhaps that is why they are allowed no time for second thoughts. An aide has all the documents prepared on a tablet for them to sign. The Administrator himself performs the ceremony. The soldier, Reese cradles Finch’s hands in his own, repeating the vows in a low rasp. 

Afterwards they are led to an opulent private suite and left to themselves. 

“What now?” Reese asks Finch.

“I don’t know.” Finch tells him, trying not to look at the bed. Surely The Machine cannot expect them…?

“Was there someone you preferred?” He asks impulsively.

“I...no not really.” Reese admits. “You?”

“No.” Finch regards the tall soldier, his husband he reminds himself. “My worldly name is Harold.”

“What?” 

“We’re given bird names when we become Acolytes.” Finch explains. “But before, I was Harold, if you would rather.”

Reese considers this. “I guess you should call me John.”


	2. The Acolyte In The House Of The Birds

The next day Acolyte Mockingbird finds Acolyte Finch sitting alone in the Hall of Martyrs at lunch time. He settles in the bench beside his friend, and waits. Finch finally tears his eyes away from his contemplation of the statue of Saint Josslyn and looks up at Mockingbird.

"All sorts of rumors going around about you." Mockingbird says in a low undertone. The Hall isn’t exactly the Server House but it feels like a holy place all the same. The various icons showing images of the martyrs make it feel like a Columbarium.

Finch nods, before asking softly, "What are they saying?" 

"That you got married yesterday, that The Machine matched you with someone, a soldier, a male soldier to be specific," Mockingbird tells him and Finch sighs. Rumors could travel from one end of the Church complex to another faster than an IM could be sent.

"So it's true then." Mockingbird hesitates a moment before asking, "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Finch isn’t sure he should but Mockingbird is his best friend and he needs to confide in someone. He pulls out his PalmCom, and hands it to Mockingbird. The other Acolyte studies the image on the small screen.

“His name is John Reese.” Finch explains. “He told me he joined the army after he completed Secondary Schooling. He’s almost completed his officer training.”

"He's handsome at least," Mockingbird studies the image thoughtfully. “What’s he like? Do you like him?”

Finch shrugs. “I just met him yesterday, and he had to report back to his base this morning.” He reminds his friend. “But, he seems alright.”

"Just alright, huh?" Mockingbird snorts. "Did you sleep with him?"

"No." Harold hesitates a moment biting his lip. "I…I wasn't ready."

"And, he was okay with that?” Mockingbird is visibly relieved by Finch’s nod. “Well, that's something anyhow. So, what happens now?" 

“I don’t know.” Finch frets. “No one will tell me anything.”

“Harold,” Nathan Ingram wraps his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. “You’re too clever not to have an idea, now tell me what you’re thinking.”

"I’ve been trying to figure out why The Machine matched me with the soldier. You know It doesn't do things randomly."

Nathan considers what he knows about the situation. There is only one thing that makes sense.

"You're thinking The Machine intends for him to become a Paladin, aren't you?"

Harold nods silently.

"And if your husband is a Paladin, then you would be his Guardian Angel?"

“His Surveil,” Harold corrects automatically. “It's not unusual for a Paladin and a Surveil to end up as a couple. It's actually encouraged. A stable pairing enhances their ability to work together."

"You're still an Acolyte." Nathan reminds his friend. "You’d have to be an Presbyter to be accepted into Surveil training.” He holds up Harold’s PalmCom with the image of the young soldier. “And, he’s going to need special training too. I don’t know how long it takes to train a Paladin but you’re looking at two years at least for you.”

“I...I just never thought of being a Surveil.” Harold explains to his friend. 

“If you don’t want…” Nathan begins.

“I don’t think I can.” Harold confesses. “I would have to send John and maybe others into danger, I would have to watch them, I would....” 

“Calm down.” Nathan pulls his friend closer. He can feel Harold trembling in his arms. Finch had always been so calm and clear-headed, this whole thing had really thrown his friend for a loop. “Now listen to me Acolyte Finch, you trust The Machine don’t you?”

“Of course,” Finch sounds almost indignant that his friend would ever question his devotion. “Well, if you’re right and The Machine means you to be a Surveil than The Machine must think you are capable of being one, right?”

“I…” Nathan hides his smile at Harold’s confusion.

“You trust The Machine and The Machine trusts you.” Mockingbird assures his fellow-Acolyte. “So, trust yourself. Whatever The Machine has planned for you, for all of us, it is because The Machine trusts we can do what is required.”

Harold sighs and slumps against his dearest friend and accepts his fate. “I am obedient to The Machine.”


	3. A Gathering of Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpts from various printed works

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some familiar names are listed as authors, They'll likely not appear in the fic otherwise, but I couldn't resist using the names.

 

Evil had been unleashed on the world.   Great evil and petty evil, It did not matter which.  The people suffered and cried out to the skies for respite. The Founder heard their cries and went to the First Administor.

“Why have you come?” The First Administrator asked the Founder.

“Do you not hear the wails of humankind?”  The Founder replied.  “Are you indifferent to their pain?”

“I am not.”  The First Administrator answered. “What would you have me do?”

“Let us craft a machine.” The Founder entreated the First Administrator.

“What sort of machine should we make?” The First Administrator asked. “Shall we make a machine that watches?  So it will see what evil is planning?  Or, should we make a machine that listens?  So it will hear what evil is planning?”

“Yes,” Said the Founder. “Let us build a machine that watches and let us build a machine that listens and more.  Let us build a machine that will warn the people what evil is planning so they can guard against it.”

“That is well and good,” The First Administrator told the Founder.  “But, the machine must do more than see, it must do more than hear, it must do more than warn.  The machine we craft must know, it must learn and it must understand.  How else will it be aware what is evil and what is good?”

“Yes, that is what we must do.” The Founder told the First Administrator.  “We must craft a machine that does all that and more.”

A Child’s Technical Gospel  published by The Library Press

* * *

 

It is a great deal of controversy over the identity of the first Paladin.  It can be argued that the Founder himself was also the first Paladin.  The records, while incomplete do suggest the Founder did attempt to intervene and aid some of the “numbers” that The Machine provided as being either dangerous or in danger.  

There is also some evidence that the First Administrator acted as a Paladin on occasion.  There has be considerable speculation that the reported physical impairments the First Administrator suffered were the result of being wounded ‘in the field’ so to speak.

Finally there is the frequently disputed suggestion that there was a failed Paladin prior to the official first Paladin.  The evidence for this is often contradictory.  In her book The First Paladin, Myths and Mysteries author May Jenson argues....

Holy Warriors in History  by Emmett Murdoch

* * *

 

The scarcity of verifiable images of many of the early followers of The Machine  has only fostered the mystery that surrounds them.  The First Administrator may be the most unfathomable of all of them.  What we know is very sparse indeed.  He was male.  He was not a youth nor was he an elder.  He had been gravely injured at some point in his life which caused some physical impairment but the nature of the impairment has been hotly debated…

The First Administrator, The Sainted Enigma by Zoe N. Miko

* * *

 

The increased veneration of Saint Josslyn the martyr began scarcely a dozen years after her death and rapidly overtook the reverence shown to all of the other martyrs of the early church including the founder…

From the script of the documentary Saints and Servers by Michael Emerson, Santa Clara Productions

* * *

 

....I’m not saying there could not have been a romantic relationship between them.  I’m saying there is absolutely no evidence there was a romantic relationship between the first Paladin and any of his known female associates.

_Transcript of exchange between Harvard Professor of History, Francis Bumstead, and novelist, Leonessa Huscroft, at International Association of Writers and Writing symposium in London_

* * *

 

The First Administrator is seated in a chair wearing the traditional garb of Administrators; white shirt, black trousers and jacket, purple vest and a black cowl lined in matching purple.  The hood of the cowl is up, shadowing his face and hiding his features.  In his left hand he holds an old fashioned tablet style in-puter as if he is displaying it to the viewer.  His right hand points to the screen of the device.  The screen contains a string of numbers that reputedly represent the number of the Founder.  

Standing behind the First Administrator  at his right hand is the figure of the first Paladin.  While the armor and sword are certainly symbolic they are still considered highly controversial because of…

Symbolism In Modern Religious Iconography  By Neal Caffery

* * *

 

While the entire complex is not open to the public, serious scholars can apply for special access to portions not open to the public.  This includes…

A Tourist’s Guide to the Church of The Machine  Published by Owl Press

* * *

 

The role of Paladins has changed over the years to encompass the changing needs as interpreted by The Machine.   The most common version of Paladins work with Law Enforcement, there are also Paladins associated with the Armed Services and Paladins who work under the cover of Intelligence Organizations such as the CIA.  These ‘Secret Agent’ Paladins…

The Church of The Machine Exposed, article in The Toronto Daily News by H. Hansen

* * *

 

While a majority of the population accepted and even embraced The Machine, a small group that would later come to be called the Luddites after the early 19th century anti-industrialization movement, were deeply opposed.  While in the early days the opposition was rarely violent…

The Story of The Anti-Machine Movement in the United States  by Connor Temple

* * *

 

The concept of Apostles, while long accepted by the Church, is frequently met with scepticism by the laity.  The idea that there are people who can mentally interface with any com never mind The Machine Itself has been disputed from the beginning.  The Church has made little effort to engage in any discussion about this.  The official attitude seems to be “We believe and if you don’t, we don’t care.”  Oddly, this indifference has only inflamed the controversy….

Die Apostelgeschichte, Article in Die Welt Observer by Carsten Schreber  (Translated from German)

* * *

 

Very little is known about the leader of the most violent faction of Luddites.  His name, Zebuleon Dix is almost certainly an alias.  Dix became prominent in the Luddite movement in the midwest approximately 10 years ago although there is some evidence he had been involved in the movement for much longer.  His call for violent resistance to the influence of The Machine grew increasingly popular with the more radical members of the movement…

Risk Evaluation on the Luddite Movement - report by SSA Aaron Hotchner, FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit

* * *

 

The U.S. Marshal’s approved my petition to foster our young fledgling, providing his name is changed in order to conceal his identity.  The Marshal’s office provided the paperwork and, as the boy had no opinion, I told them to use my name for his last name.  

As for the young man himself, he seems to be doing alright.  He’s still very quiet and withdrawn but he seems to be responding well to counselling. His schooling does not seem to have suffered any and I have been providing him with extra instruction…

Excerpt from report sent by Presbyter Wren to Administrator Swallow

* * *

 

The rumors are running rampant in the Church Complex but there has been no official statement by the Administrator, any of the Episcopate or the supervising Presbyters beyond the normal posting of the marriage announcement.  The Acolyte has said little about his marriage to anyone in general hearing.  I presume he has spoken with his friends, but, if so, they have been very circumspect.   

I have assumed that you will have access to information about the soldier, Lt. John Reese, so I have not included anything beyond his name.  The Church do not seem to be any special files concerning him.  However I will keep my eyes open.

As for Acolyte Finch, I am having difficulty accessing his all his files surreptitiously.  There seems to be special coding on many of his files.  I could access them, but I could not guarantee my efforts would go undiscovered.  

I feel that I should say that I am unsure if these files are important.  They mainly concern his life prior to being invited to become an acolyte.  Usually  if those files are sealed it is because the acolyte was involved in some crime, probably hacking.  

_John Greer snorts as he tosses the paper report aside.  Paper, the old fashioned inefficiency annoys him but it is safer than any other means.  No com created is secure against The Machine or it’s minions.  Only by emulating the damn Luddites can they keep their activities secret._

_He considers what he has learned.  Why would The Machine arrange a marriage between a mysterious acolyte and a soldier paladin?  The level of involvement by The Machine was unprecedented.  What was it about this pair that made The Machine interfer like this?_

_The available information suggested nothing extraordinary about either man.  Reese had a normal enough childhood and career.  He’d been considered a good candidate for Paladin training early on but so had dozens of others._

_The information for the Acolyte was scarcer.  If he’d been a hacker, well that was hardly unusual for a cleric in the Church of The Machine.  The records his people had been able to access showed Finch to be an excellent coder and a devoted acolyte, again typical._

_No one had ever managed to sublimate any Machine prelates or to place any of their own agents in positions of power in the church.  They were an astonishingly loyal group.  The church retained more than 90% of their recruits.  The few that left it was mostly due to illness of some sort._

_There had more luck with paladins but not much more.  Their lives depended on their surveil and so they were loyal to the surveil.  Most info had come from paladin trainees before they were paired off with a surveil.  So, could Reese have been a vulnerability and pairing him with Finch would somehow remove the vulnerability? That would imply there was something special about Reese that was not apparent in his files._

_Greer considers, some additional investigation is called for._


	4. The Soldier and The Acolyte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> moving in and moving closer

The first three months of their marriage are spent separate from one another. Neither one can decide if he is relieved by this or not.

“You haven’t talked to him at all?” Mockingbird asks as they walk through the courtyard of the Congregatio Petræ, anonymous acolytes with the hoods of their cowls pulled up.

“He coms me almost every evening he’s not on duty.” Finch tells his friend. “And his parents sent me an email, welcoming me to the family. When John is reassigned to Fort Hamilton for Paladin training, they’re going to come and visit us.”

“That’s good.” Nathan tells him. “Have you told Wren?”

“Yes, she wants to come and visit when John’s parents come.”

Mockingbird hesitates, he knows this subject is sensitive. “What about your dad?”

“He hasn’t been doing well.” Harold says finally. “I told him, but I don’t think...I’m not sure he understood.”

Mockingbird gently bumps his shoulder against his friend’s. He wonders if Harold has told his husband about his past. He rather doubts it.

 

* * *

* * *

 

He’s been married nearly three months. In that time, he’s spent exactly one night in the presence of his husband. John Reese may not have ever planned on being married like this but three months of nothing but talking with Finch on the com and he’s doing his best to feel hopeful about the future.

In the meantime, he’s sitting in the auditorium at Fort Hamilton with sixty or so other Paladin trainees from every branch of the Services waiting for orientation to start. He wishes he had time to com his husband when he arrived, but he’d barely had time to leave his kit in the inprocessing office and hustle over.

The Garrison Commander gives them a ‘Welcome’ speech, points out a few links referenced in the packet of info sent all their coms and wishes them luck. A couple of other officers introduce themselves and talk about housing, transit and such.

The teachers are an interesting bunch. The military range from a burly Coast Guard Commander in his late fifties to a thirtyish Army Corpsman. There is even a Dog Handler with a black Dutch Shepherd. A couple of them look like civilians though John suspects they might be retired service, they have the look.

The Surveils are equally mixed. Most seemed pretty typical in the traditional clericals of a presbyter but there were a couple in BDUs and one in what looked like a Coast Guard ODU, except in black instead of dark blue.

He tries to imagine Finch as one of those Surveils as they’re dismissed to finish inprocessing and settle in. He can’t imagine his little acolyte in BDUs. Of course Surveils aren’t technically members of the services, they can dress any way they want.

“You’ll be living with your spouse off base?” The Sergeant at the Inprocessing office asks him.

“Yes,” John nods. Finch had suggested it when they’d talked about it over the com. Acolytes were required to abide at The House of The Birds but there were accommodations for spouses and families. John could have applied for an apartment on base but John is hoping that actually living with his husband will turn their odd relationship into a real marriage.

The Sargent assigns him a locker, inputs his data and directs John to the nearby transit station.

John collects his kit, hikes to the station and catches the first tram going in the right direction. He texts a message to his husband once he’s on his way. He gets a reply back as the tram crosses the upper bay past Governors Island saying that Finch will meet him by the bear statue along the Atlanticum Versus Way.

John has only been to the church complex once before but the bronze grizzly isn’t hard to find. Finch is waiting patiently for him to one side. John is relieved to observe the way his little acolyte smiles when he spots him. The other man had been understandably nervous to find himself married to a complete stranger. Talking with John over the com, seems to have calmed him down.

“John.”

“Hey.”

They stand there staring at one another for a long minute. Finch gives a little shake.

“Here, let me help you carry that.”

John gives him his com bag and follows as Finch leads him to The House of The Birds.

“Your access should be all set.” Finch tells him as they walk. “You can go into any public areas of the complex and most of the places I can go too.”

“Sounds good.” John tells him. Finch is not quite as nervous as last time, chatting over the com has helped. Still, John can see the tension in the other man’s face.

The scanner at the door admits him without any problem as does the elevator. Harold is telling him about the gym and the rooftop garden and the other amenities the church provides when they stop at a door marked ‘Acolyte Finch & Lt. Reese’. The lock scans him and the door opens.

The apartment is larger than John expected. Maybe it is the floor to ceiling glass wall looking out over the city that makes it feel that way.

“I applied for ‘Married’ quarters just after...” Finch trails off as he sets John’s com bag down on the built in com desk before continuing. “This was available so…” He shrugs.

“It’s great.” John assures him. It’s much nicer than anything John would have gotten assigned on base. The large main room with its kitchenette are clean, modern and bright as are the furnishings. All the tech is new and state of the art.

He notices Finch has a few things decorating the shelves along the wall above the sofa, a couple of photo cubes, a little toy robot and a rough carving of a bird painted to look like a robin.

“You can put your clothes and things in here.”

John follows Finch to the bedroom. It is smaller than the other room but it does have the same floor to ceiling windows. There is a large closet holding Finch’s other clericals, a built in dresser and a large bed.

Harold settles on the foot of the bed to watch as John efficiently unpacks: putting away his clothes and stashing his toiletries in the equally modern bathroom.

“There’s a laundry service.” Finch tells him. “And you can order necessities on the com and have them charged to the room.”

“Necessities?” John asks as he stashes his empty bag in the closet.

“Shampoo, shaving cream, that sort of thing,” Finch explains. “Or food if you want to cook. You can also order delivery from nearby restaurants.”

“Okay.” John nods and waits to see what Finch will do or say next.

The acolyte blushes slightly, nervously wetting his lips before glancing up at his husband.

“My friend, Nathan, he’s also an acolyte, Mockingbird, he told me I should talk to you about my past. My counselor too, she thinks it would be good” Finch explains. “It’s hard…”

“Finch,” John starts but falls silent when Harold looks up at him entreatingly.

“It’s hard for me to talk about this with anyone, not just with you. Even Nathan doesn’t know all of it.” Finch tells him.

“Finch...Harold,” John kneels down on the floor in front of his husband. “Tell me what you can.”

“Can I show you?”


	5. The Acolyte's Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finch shares some of his secrets with his husband

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some angst and some talking about past abuse in this chapter. it's mostly implied and nothing graphic but fair warning.

“Who are you?”

John is doing his best to emulate his husband’s gentle patience with the older man, so he smile and again reminds his father-in-law, “I’m John, Harold’s husband.”

“I have a son named Harold.”

John suppresses his wince but Finch’s tender smile never wavers.

Whatever John Reese had been imagining his husband was going to reveal to him, it did not involve an elderly man at a quiet nursing home an hours’ drive outside the city. His father’s confusion and forgetfulness have to devastate the young acolyte but why all the secrecy? 

After half an hour of confused and disjointed conversation, the older man is getting tired and anxious. John watches Finch press a gentle kiss to the older man’s forehead and turn him over to a patiently waiting nurse before following him out to the car.

“Would you drive?” Finch asks so John slides behind the wheel and inputs the House of The Birds into the navigation screen and setting the auto-drive.

“Is he…does your dad have Alzheimer’s?” John asks as the car heads back towards New York.

“Yes.” Now that he doesn’t have to pretend for his father’s sake, Finch makes no effort to hide his pain. “I told him about you, about us getting married but…” But, there wasn’t a chance the older man would have remembered John’s name five minutes after Finch had told him. John glances across the car to his husband.

“He can’t take Memnosynthe?” John asks. The drug is supposed to be a miracle cure for Alzheimer’s but John supposes there must be a few people who can’t take it because of allergies or something.

“No, he can, he’s on it in fact.” Harold sighs. John says nothing. There are times when silence is more effective than questions and he suspects this is one of them. 

“I have two older brothers,” Finch volunteers after a few miles.

“You’ve never mentioned them,” John responds. He’d told Harold all about his family, but his husband hadn’t been so forthcoming. Well, he can sort of understand why Finch might have trouble talking about his father, and he had said his mother had died when Finch was only five but is there also a problem with his brothers?

“I haven’t seen them in years, not since I was a teenager.” Harold volunteers.

“Do you not get along?” John asks after a minute of silence.

“No.” And the bleakness is back in Finch’s voice. “They’re a lot older than I am. My next oldest brother, Gerald, was nearly ten when I was born and Donald was fifteen.”

John nods. Ten years is a huge gap when you’re young. 

“Gerald was…well, if he hadn’t been my brother I don’t think I would have willingly had anything to do with him.” 

“Bit of a jerk?” John guesses. He and Sophie get along now but back when they were kids they could barely stand one another. 

“Yes,” Finch almost manages a ghost of a chuckle. “He’s really smart, he could have done quite well for himself but he was lazy. If it didn’t come easy, he couldn’t be bothered.”

“I know guys like that.” John admits. 

“When I was ten or eleven, Gerald got involved with the Luddite movement.” Finch tells him. “I don’t know why, really. He’d never had problems with The Machine or any other technology, at least not that I ever knew about.”

“Was your family devout?” John asks. His family wasn’t especially, though they used coms and other tech. Still, both his parents were well aware of all the good The Machine did and had no problems with it.

“Not really,” Harold tells him. “I don’t remember ever going to the local Server House except for weddings and funerals. I don’t remember much about my mom, but Dad didn’t have any issues with coms. I wouldn’t say he used them much but that was more a lack of need than any antipathy towards them.”

“What did he do?” John asks. There aren’t many jobs that don’t use coms these days.

“He was a farmer. We had a small farm, corn and organic vegetables mostly, a few animals. Anyhow, Dad started to have memory problems when I was nine or so. At least that’s when it got bad. Looking back on it, he may have been having problems for a couple of years, I don’t know. Donald’s wife was a nurse and she persuaded Dad go to the doctor. After some tests he was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s and prescribed Memnosynthe. It really helped a lot.”

John glances over at his husband. He’s starting to suspect exactly what went wrong. Still, he needs to ask, “What happened.”

“When I was almost fourteen, Gerald went to court and got himself declared Dad’s conservator and my guardian.” Harold tells him. John can see how angry the memory makes Finch. “There was no need, Dad wasn’t that bad. The Memnosynthe doesn’t restore lost cognition but we were doing fine, but the judge went along with Gerald. Donald and his wife had moved away. If he knew about what Gerald was doing, he didn’t try to interfere. No one did. “

“What happened?” Reese already dislikes his brother-in-law but he suspects his feelings are about to get much stronger.

“Gerald made us move to a Luddite compound.” Finch is silent for a minute before continuing, “There are all sorts of Luddites. None of them want to have anything to do with The Machine and some eschew all modern tech but, as long as they’re allowed to go their own way, they’re not really violent. They might yell at rallies and sue schools so their kids don’t have to take com science courses but their anger is directed in mostly legal channels. That wasn’t true of the group Gerald’s involved with.”

John reaches across the seat so he can lay his hand over his husbands. Finch looks startled but he twines his fingers with John’s. 

“Couldn’t your dad do anything?” John asks. The old man of today with his memory lapses and wandering attention couldn’t have done anything but surely he’d been stronger back then. 

“Memnosynthe alters your brain chemistry and Gerald wouldn’t let Dad take it. Sudden withdrawal is dangerous and the side effects…” Finch shudders at the memory. “Dad was horribly sick for weeks and his cognitive function went rapidly downhill.” Finch tells him. “He couldn’t even take care of himself.” 

“I’m sorry,” John gently squeezes Finch’s hand. “How bad was it?”

“It was awful.” Harold tells him. “Dad was ill and Gerald wouldn’t help. Everyone at the compound was horrible. I didn’t dare trust anyone. They didn’t have any problems beating the crap out of anyone who got out of line.”

John nods. Had Finch been abused? A fourteen year old boy with an ailing father and no one to protect him, it would be more surprising if he hadn’t. His husband’s secrecy makes a lot more sense. “How long were you there?”

“A bit over two years,” Harold tells him. “Did you ever hear about the big raid on the Luddite compound outside of Lassiter Iowa? About seven years ago?”

“Yeah, it was in all the news feeds.” He’d only been in secondary school himself but the news reports about the place had been so horrible that he could still remember them. The compound had housed several of the most vicious Luddite terrorist on record. There had been dozens of warrants for crimes ranging from murder to treason. Abuse and assault had reportedly been widespread inside the compound. Had his little acolyte really been there? What had Finch had to endure?”

“When the raid started, Gerald and the others in charge fled the compound. Some of the more fervent true believers tried to fight the FBI.” Harold explains. “I took Dad and hid in the fields. We weren’t the only ones. Even some of the true believers didn’t want to have anything to do with the violence and abuse anymore.”

“Zebuleon Dix and his disciples,” John remembers. “They never caught them.”

“No,” Finch is quiet again for several minutes. “Anyhow, when the FBI started searching the fields we surrendered to them. I don’t think they knew what to do with us. Luckily, Presbyter Wren showed up at the Federal Building in Cedar Rapids and took charge of the situation.”

“Wren?” John knows that name, “Your foster-mother?” 

“Yes,” Harold smiles. “I don’t know how many toes she had to step on to accomplish that. She got legal custody of both of us. She put Dad into a good treatment facility and took me home with her. Helped me catch up with school and made me go to a counselor. She still checks up on us.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting her.” John gives Finch’s hand a squeeze. 

“You’ll like her.” Harold smiles, his foster-mother seems to be a good memory. “She was the one who made me want to be an acolyte.”

John doesn’t want to ruin his husband’s mood, but he feels compelled to ask, “What happened to your other brother?”

“Wren got in touch with him, afterwards. He was less than sympathetic.” Finch’s voice is cool, almost dispassionate. John isn’t sure if Finch is angry, hurt or indifferent. “We talked a couple of times over the com but after a while we stopped bothering. I haven’t bothered about him in years.”

“His loss,” John says finally. “If you want a sibling, you can share Sophie with me.”

“I’ve never had a sister.” Finch sounds pleased with the idea of going halves on John’s sibling.

“Soph’s not bad.” John assures him. “You’ll like her.”

“Thank you for being so patient and understanding, John,” Harold gives John’s hand another squeeze. 

“Hey, we’ve only known each other a few months. Most couple date before they get married. We never had a chance to get to know each other beforehand.”

“Nonetheless,” Harold watches as the city seems to grow larger and larger. “You’ve been very kind to me and I appreciate that.”

“Anytime, Finch, Anytime.”


	6. Dark Dreams and Union

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finch dreams and the acolyte and his soldier grow closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some implied previous abuse - again nothing explicit but fair warning.

 

He is thirteen and it is Spring.

 He waves goodbye as the school bus pulls away. A Yellow Warbler is flitting about the oak tree when he stops and checks the mailbox. The package he’s been expecting from the automotive supply company, with luck he can repair the truck before supper. He listens to the Warbler sing for a minute before heading down the drive.

The car parked by the house is unexpected but it’s too nice a day for Jerry to spoil his mood. He waves a greeting to his brother with a smile. Gerald is his next older sibling and there is nearly ten years between him. He’s not sure he likes this brother, but for his father’s sake he does his best to get along with him.

 “You and Dad didn’t come by yesterday.” Is Jerry’s greeting. His brother’s been trying to get them to come to his Luddite gatherings but most of the family can’t be bothered. Well, this time they’ve got a good excuse.

 “Truck’s been out of commission since Tuesday.” He holds up the package, “Carburetor again. Want to help me put it back together?”

 Jerry snorts but follows him into the barn.

 

* * *

  

He is fourteen and it is Summer.

He does his assigned chores, keeping his head down, causing no more trouble. They will not punish him again if he causes no more trouble. They will not punish him again if he does his chores. They will not punish him again if he keeps his head down, if he keeps silent, if he pretends he agrees with them.

 They will have to send him to school come September. He keeps telling himself that. The law requires him to attend school until he is sixteen.

 He will never forgive his brother for forcing him and his father to come here. He will never forgive the rest of his family for allowing it.

 Dad had been doing fine at home. With Memnosynthe his father’s illness had been checked. The doctors couldn’t do anything about the memories Dad had already lost but it hardly mattered. Dad had been more than capable of running the farm and taking care of himself and his youngest son. Still, the illness and the memory loss had been enough for his brother to interfere with their lives, to claim control over them, to take them away to this awful place.

 After a month being denied his medication, his father’s condition has degenerated hopelessly. How could Jerry have done this? He wants to scream his frustration to the uncaring sky. How could his own flesh and blood have condemned them to this, how?

 

* * *

 

He is fifteen and it is Autumn.

 “I’m told you’re good with those damnable coms?” The so called prophet studies him appraisingly. His gaze feels...wrong. Some instinct tells him that a grown man should not look at a teenaged boy like this. He does his best to let none of his fear show on his face.

 “It’s a required class.” He shrugs as if he’s bored, indifferent. They had not allowed him to go back to school this year. He’s not the only one. None of the children were allowed to leave the compound. He wonders why no one has come to demand their attendance. Schooling is mandatory. Could someone have been bribed to look the other way?

 “One that you excelled at.”

 “Know your enemy.” He offers, hoping to avoid punishment. Zebuleon Dix has a sadistic streak. His father is no longer capable of protecting him. He cannot trust his brother to protect him. He has not seen or heard from any of his other relatives in more than a year. He is completely alone in this hell.

 Dix snorts but he doesn’t look angry. “You’re a clever boy, aren’t you Harry?”

 He doesn’t answer, taking what refuge he can in stillness and silence. It is a dangerous game but he has no choice about playing. He prays Dix will view his passivity as submission.

 “I could use a clever boy like you.”

 

* * *

 

He is sixteen and it is Winter.

 The interrogation room isn’t cold but he can’t stop shivering.

 He told them everything, every detail he can remember. They hadn’t needed to ask questions. They had listened silently to his confession and then left him in here while they talk outside.

 He can’t stop shaking. It worked, he cannot believe it had worked. Even if he ends up going to prison, he can’t regret it. His father, most of the children and a lot of those who had begun to doubt, they are all free. Zebuleon Dix and his followers cannot touch them here. Zebuleon Dix cannot touch him ever again, thank The Machine.

 He starts when the door opens.

 The tall woman with silver in her dark curls dressed in a black suit and cowl smiles at him warmly before coming to sit across the table from him. Behind her, he can see the police and agents all standing around outside the door. They look annoyed.

 “Hello, Harold. I am Presbyter Wren.”

 “You believe me, don’t you?” He begs her. “I told them about Dix, about what he made me do but I don’t think they believed me. I only hacked ARPANET at his orders. I didn’t have a choice.”

 “It is alright, Harold.” She assures him gently. “I believe you and even more importantly The Machine believes you too.”

  

* * *

 

* * *

   

He wakes with a gasp. Dark-bed-who’s there?-someone beside him-no-please no-where is he? He fumbles for the bedside light, his panic making him clumsy.

 “Wha-? What’s wrong?“

 The light comes on. He is in his own bedroom, in the House of The Birds. John, husband, John is beside him, squinting in the sudden brightness. Even without his oculars he can see his husband’s expression is confused, worried by the unexpected alarm. His room, his bed, his husband-safe, he is safe. There is no need for panic, thank The Machine.

“Bad dream?”

I...yes,” Finch admits somewhat breathlessly. Knowing there is no need to panic and not panicking are two very different things. He tries to calm himself as John slips out of bed to fetch him a glass of water from the bathroom.

“Thank you,” Finch manages a smile as he accepts the glass.

“Do you want to talk about it?” John asks climbing back onto the mattress and settling himself cross-legged beside Finch, careful not to touch, careful not to get too close, careful not to spook Finch further.

“No,” Finch sighs. “Just memories.”

“Okay,” John accepts, doesn’t push. Finch think he might love John just for that.

He thinks about that while sipping his water. How does he feel about this husband of his? The soldier is undeniably attractive; tall, tanned and fit. Reese has been nothing but kind, gentle and generous with his since their beginning. Ordinarily he would have been thrilled to attract the attention of such a handsome person. Why hasn’t he slept with his husband?

“You’re being very patient with me.” Finch suggests softly. Does John want him? He’s nowhere near as good looking but he’s had his share of admirers. Admittedly his brains had been the main attraction for many. Still, John does seem fond of him.

“Everybody had bad dreams sometimes,” John assures him.

“That’s not what I mean.” Finch sets down the glass on the bedside table. John has been the one to reach out to him; surely it is his turn to reach out to his husband. “You haven’t said anything about us having sex.”

John doesn’t answer immediately, his face is still, thoughtful. “We really haven’t known each other that long.” He offers finally.

“Three months,” Finch reminds him. “Chatting on the com counts, and if we had been dating we probably would have had sex by now.”

“I guess.” John regards him for a moment. “There’s no hurry, Harold. We’re not on a schedule here.”

“No, but I wouldn’t be averse to getting to know you better.”

“Yeah?” John grins at that and moves forward slowly, tilting his head to just the right angle.

John’s a very good kisser, Finch reflects as he wraps his arms around his husband’s shoulders. Warm, tender and so very sweet, Finch thinks he might cheerfully kiss John for hours on end but tonight he wants more.

“Could you take off your undershirt?” He asks John when they pause to catch their breath. John releases him just long enough to pull the shirt over his head while Finch slips off his pajama top. He’s not as built as John but regular running keeps him in pretty good shape. John doesn’t seem disappointed; he smiles and guides Finch to lie back on the pillow before kissing him again.

Harold feels a bit self-conscious, kissing like this with the lights on, but mostly he likes it. He likes that he can open his eyes and see that it is John beside him, John smiling down at him, John kissing him, John touching him.

“Can I?” John asks, running his hand over the waistband of Harold’s pajamas. When Harold nods his assent, John carefully tugs it down to harold’s thighs, exposing his sex.

Harold helps John peel off his boxers and retrieves a bottle of lube from the drawer of his bedside table.

They kiss as John takes him in hand, rubbing, teasing and stroking. Harold spreads his legs as best he can, pours the oil on his own hand and reaches for his husband. John gives a happy little groan and increases his speed.

Finch can feel his orgasm building. Close, he’s very close, just a bit more; with a little cry he comes. John echos him, his seed spurting over Harold’s hand.

They lie there kissing for a bit. Finally John gets up and fetches a damp washcloth to clean them off. He helps Finch pull up his sleeping pants, dims the light and crawls back into bed. Only instead of settling on his own side, John settle in the middle and pulls Finch close.

“Is this okay?” John rumbles softly.

Finch considers. He is warm, sated and safe. He settle his head on John’s chest so he can hear his husband’s heartbeat.

“It’s perfect.”


	7. The Soldier Begins Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John begins Paladin training and is told something he doesn't want to hear.

John isn’t sure what to expect from Paladin training, but the first month reminds him of basic.  Except, instead of a drill sergeant yelling at him, he and his fellow trainees are fitted with earpieces that allow the various Surveil instructors to speak with them as they attend lectures and training exercises.  The first week or so it’s annoying and distracting and then it just becomes second nature.  A few of his fellow trainees have more trouble getting used to the noise.  Some eventually learn to cope, a few drop out of the program.

He’s also getting to know his fellow trainees.  Most are like him, youngish officers or NCOs from all the various branches of the services.  While most Armed Services Paladins John’s heard about operate in Special Forces units or the equivalent, there are a few exceptions in their group.  The ordinance disposal guys make sense, because having a Surveil help you defuse a bomb is likely useful.  The sniper too makes sense to John.  Even the two officers from the NYC SWAT team that are getting some additional training above and beyond anything Law Enforcement Paladins usually receive make sense to him, it’s people like Sameen Shaw who is ostensibly a Marine Medic that puzzle John.  

“I don’t know how I ended up here, either.”  She tells John as they jog around the track.  Despite her height, she has no problem keeping up with his longer stride.  “I’m pretty sure I don’t fit the psych profile for a Paladin but I figure if they operate in small teams, having a medic who can also fight might be useful.”

John considers that for a minute.  Shaw is a about a third of a meter shorter and probably weighs 30 kilos less than him and John has no doubts in a fair fight she could take him.  In an unfair fight she could take him and a half dozen of their fellow trainees.  That she could patch them up afterwards would be useful, especially behind enemy lines.  “I can see that,” He concedes.

“Sometimes you need to think outside the box, Reese.” She tells him and John supposes she’s right.  He wonders if some of the other trainees are destined for team positions rather than Paladins.  Like Kara Stanton maybe.  She’s also a Marine and a good fighter but she doesn’t seem to like having the Surveils commenting in her ear.  He’s heard her softly growling almost under her breathe to the trainer to either provide useful information or to shut up and let her concentrate.  Her cynical attitude doesn’t fit his idea of a Paladin either.

He tells Finch about it that night while they’re eating supper in their apartment in the House of The Birds.  

“Lots of trainees don’t become Paladins.”  Finch explains.  “The Machine doesn’t select them so anybody who wants can apply as long as they meet the armed forces or law enforcement requirements.”

“I wonder why The Machine doesn’t say anything about who should be a Paladin,” Because that doesn’t make sense to John either, although it might explain how he got in the program?  He’s never been particularly devote, though he can appreciate the advantages The Machine provides.

“You don’t become a Paladin until you’re paired with a Surveil.”  Finch reminds him, “Even if you pass every test.  Also, the Surveil has the final say about the pairing.  If the Surveils don’t like you, you’re out of luck.”

“And, The Machine approves Surveil trainees?”  John guesses and Finch nods.

“There’s no application process.  The Machine assigns Presbyters to the training.”  He explains.  

“We really haven’t done much with the Surveil trainees yet.”  John muses.  “Mostly they just listen in while the trainers talk to us.  Do you know any of them?”

“I suppose I must.”  

Four months married, three months talking to each other on the com, one month sharing quarters, sharing a bed; John is beginning to get a read on his elusive husband.  “What aren’t you telling me?”  He asks cocking his head.  Not aggressive, not confrontational, he’s fairly sure his little acolyte won’t respond well to either, not with his past.

Harold looks down at his plate.  “It’s not official,” He offers.  “It won’t be official for months…”

“Finch,” John reaches across the table to cover his husband’s hand.  “Harold, it’s okay, just tell me.”

“I’m in Surveil training.”  

John ruthlessly suppresses his initial negative reaction and tries to consider this announcement dispassionately.  He’s not sure he’s succeeding, Finch is regarding him warily.

“Why do you think that?”  John asks keeping his voice calm, his tone even, “I thought you said that it’s Presbyters that the Machine assigns to training and you’re almost a year from being ordained.”

“There’s a long precedent of Surveils and Paladins pairing up personally as well as professionally.”  Finch explains.  “It’s not required but it is encouraged.  Most of the best pairings were involved with one another.”

“You think that’s why The Machine wanted us to get married?”  John checks.  “So it could make you my Surveil?  

“John, there is no other reason for The Machine to insist you and I get married.”  Harold tells him.  “No other type of Presbyter is ever paired with anyone, not like this.  Yes we work with members of the laity and we  even marry them but such pairings are never decreed by The Machine.”

John is exasperated at his own stupidity.  What did he think that damned computer had in mind when It made them get married?   Why hadn’t he questioned it more?  The Machine would hardly concern Itself with just arranging marriages for Its acolytes, not unless there was a good reason for it.

“But, you can’t be in Surveil training.”  He protests, knowing he is grasping at straws, “Not until you’re a Presbyter.”

“Not officially, no.”  Finch concedes, “But, ever since we got married I’ve been doing special training.  By the time I’m officially allowed in the program, I shouldn’t be too far behind the other trainees.”

John runs his free hand through his closely cropped hair and considers his options.  Finch is a true believer, John doubts he could persuade his husband to go against The Machine’s wishes.  He himself could drop out of the program but that would likely be the end of his career in the Army and upset his husband.  Would The Machine allow them to stay married if John doesn’t do as It wishes?

“John,” Harold’s smaller hand grips John’s tightly.  “Please tell me what you’re thinking?”  He begs.

“I…” What is he supposed to say to his husband?  That he’s appalled that The Machine could expect his gentle acolyte to deal with more violence and horror in his life?  “I don’t want to think about you being in danger.”  

“I’m likely going to be spending most of my career as a Surveil sitting in an office miles from any fighting while you go out and do the dangerous work.”  Harold tries to smile reassuringly.  

“You’re still going to have to see and hear everything.”  John protests.  The blood, the brutality, the death and the destruction; a few miles distance won’t shield Finch from all the horrors of combat.  

“John,” Harold comes around the table to wrap his arms around the taller man.  “Being a Presbyter isn’t always easy or safe.  We minister to everyone, even dangerous people in dangerous places.  We see horrors in our prison ministry, our charity work in hospitals and shelters.  We’ve been attacked by Luddites and other fanatics.”  He lets John push the chair away from the table and pull him down so he is straddling on his John’s lap.  “Not being a Surveil doesn’t mean I won’t ever have to deal anything ugly.  At least this way you’ll be there.”

John doesn’t answer.  Instead he buries his face in the soft skin of his husband’s neck.  Without the cowl and jacket of his clericals, the tender skin is free for nuzzling.  Finch voices no protests.  The cowl is very good at hiding any marks John might leave when he nips or sucks on Harold’s neck.

“John,”  Finch tilts his head giving John better access.

“Can we go into the bedroom?”  John asks.  He’s always careful with his husband, letting Harold set the pace, trying not to push, but right now John needs the comfort of Finch’s body.

Finch doesn’t mind.  He presses a kiss to John’s lips and murmurs, “Yes, of course.”

John knows that Harold prefers to have the lights on when they make love so he turns the bedside light on to its lowest setting before turning to kiss his husband.

“May I undress you?”  John asks, his hand caressing Finch’s wrist.

“Yes,” Harold nods.  He still has his oculars on.  John finds those brilliant blue eyes peering up at him through the lenses endearing.  He carefully undoes the cufflink before bringing Finch’s arm up to press a kiss to the newly exposed skin.

Finch gives a happy little gasp.  In the last month, John has begun to learn the best way to please his husband involves a slow sensual seduction.  John smiles before doing the same with the other hand.

The vest is first.  John exchanges kisses with Finch as he teases open each fastener and slips the garment off.  Next the shirt, John tugs off his own tee shirt before pulling Finch’s undershirt over his head.  John smiles again at how this ruffles Harold hair.

He kneels on the floor to help Finch step out of his trousers and underpants.  Finch sits on the edge of the bed so John can tug off his socks before shucking the remainder of his own clothing.

John moves so he his kneeling on the floor in front of Harold, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist and tilting his head up, claiming a kiss from the acolyte’s mouth.  Finch parts his legs so John can move closer and wraps his arms around John’s shoulders.

“What do you need, John?”   Finch whispers between kisses.

“I...would you fuck me?”  John rasps softly.  

Finch stares down at him, wide eyed with surprise.  “I, I’ve never…”  He stammers nervously.

“Let me show you,” John entreats.  “Please, Harold.  I really want you.”

Finch is timid but not unwilling.  John helps his husband carefully prepare them for sex.  

“That’s it,”  John croons softly.  Finch’s fingers, slick with lube, feel wonderful as they stretch John open.  “You need lots of lube.”  

“I’m not hurting you?”  

“Never,” John twists slightly so he can press a reassuring kiss on Harold’s lips.  He wants to kill whoever once hurt his husband.  He wonders if Finch will ever tell him.  “Feels good.”

He can see Finch relax slightly, not completely convinced maybe but definitely calmer.  He settles on his back and watches as John uses more lube to slick Harold’s cock.  Finch’s expression is rapt and  maybe a bit awed, as John straddles his body, takes Harold’s cock in hand, slowly sinking down until he is seated on Harold’s lap.

It burns slightly, it’s been awhile since John’s done this, but it fades quickly as John begins to move, rocking slowly.  He grins down at his husband as he speeds up the motion.

“You like this?”  Harold asks, wonderingly, his hands caressing John’s thighs.

“Yeah,”  He guides Finches hand to his dick.  “Oh yeah.”

John is aware of everything: the look of wonder on Harold’s face,  the way his hands feel, the sensation of being filled by his husband.  He uses every trick he’s ever learned, every good thing he’s ever had done to him, to try and enhance Harold’s enjoyment.  It seems to be working, judging from blissfully dazed expression on Finch’s face

“You’re amazing,”  Harold breathes as John increases the pace.

“You too,”  John covers Harold’s hand with his own and he’s coming, spurting over their joined hands.  He grinds down and Finch give a little cry and joins him in bliss.

“Absolutely amazing.”  John mutters as they cuddle and kiss.  They’ll need a shower before they go to bed but that can wait for a bit.

“John?” Harold’s eyes are studying him intently.  “Are you going to be alright with me training?”

John sighs.  He doesn’t want to lie to his husband but what can he say?  “I don’t think I’m ever going to be okay with you being anywhere near combat, but I know I can’t protect you from everything.”  John sighs before wrapping his arms tightly around his husband.  “Promise me you’ll be as careful as you can.”

“Only if you promise the same,” And Harold kisses John.

 

* * *

 

_John Greer studies the latest report.  His agent has managed to establish herself in the Paladin training program.  She hasn’t managed to get close to Reese yet but even still she had managed to provide some interesting information._

_He considers the medical files for Acolyte Finch’s father.  The last name is obviously an alias but the rest of the information is  likely accurate._

_“You wanted to see me, sir?”_

_“Yes, Mr. Lambert.  I need you to go to Iowa and see what you can find out about this man.”  Greer hands the younger man the medical file._


	8. The Soldier and His Fellow Trainees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John socializes with a few of his fellow Paladin trainees while the News is bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some violence and death mentioned.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” John looks up from his workstation to find his fellow trainee standing beside him.

“Nothing,” John is already sure that’s not going to work with Stanton but he really doesn’t want to confide in her.

“Sure,” She nods, pretending to agree. “Look, some of us are going out tonight for drinks after the last class, you want to come along?”

John considers for a moment. Finch has a late class tonight and sitting around the apartment by himself has no appeal. “Sure,” He decides. “Why not?” He hopes Stanton isn’t lying about other people going too. He’s not sure he want’s to spend the evening alone with Kara.

He’s relieved to discover Kara and three other trainees sitting around a table at the Kelly’s Tavern, sipping beer and arguing over if they want to order food or not. John claims the last free chair beside Kara, accepts a mug of beer and puts in a vote for nachos.

“I don’t know how you can afford to live in Manhattan,” Kara is telling him when the food arrives. “I’ve been looking around but everything's too expensive or the roaches are bigger than me.” She shudders.

“I’m living with my husband,” John explains, leaning back as Shaw reaches across him to grab the plate of hot wings.

“I didn’t know you were married.” Joss Carter remarks as she passes the loaded potato skins along the table.

“Four months, now.” John confirms, smiling over at the pretty Warrant Officer.

“Still newlyweds?” Mark Snow comments, toasting Reese with his beer mug. “Congratulations.”

“What’s your husband do?” Kara asks.

“He’s an acolyte.” John tells her. “We’re living at the House of The Birds.”

“Huh,” She considers him thoughtfully for a minute. “I never would have figured you for devout.”

“How does boinking a cleric make him devout?” Shaw asks around a mouthful of jalapeno poppers.

“Please don’t put it like that.” John pleads while the others laugh. “And, I’m not devout.” He had gone to the chapel a couple of times with Finch, but that didn’t count.

“So your husband isn’t why applied for Paladin training?” Kara questions.

“I was slated for training before I met him.” Which is true. His CO hadn’t told him but he’d supposedly been under consideration before The Machine arranged their marriage. “What about you?”

“I’m not devout and I was surprised by the orders,” Stanton admits. “My CO recommended me but I didn’t think I’d be picked.”

“Me too,” Carter tells them. “I applied, but I didn’t think I’d be tapped. Though my family’s pretty religious.”

“That why named you for Saint Josslyn?” Shaw asks.

“Even worse, family legend has it we’re descended from her.” Carter laughs.

“Really?” Kara sounds like she isn’t sure if she should be impressed or sceptical.

“I don’t know,” Carter shrugs. “That’s what my dad says anyhow.”

“Saint Josslyn had a son,” Snow points out. “I don’t remember if there was anything in the scriptures about him after she was martyred.”

“I never really studied the Technical Gospels,” John admits. “Other than the bits that were covered in history class.”

“Me either.” Stanton tells him.

“I did,” Shaw steals a shrimp skewer from John’s plate. “We covered faith and religion in one of my psychology classes in college. I got curious so I took a religious studies class.”

“So, you’re a true believer?” Snow asks, sounding doubtful. John can’t blame him, Shaw never struck him as one of the faithful.

“Nah,” She grins at them. “I appreciate what religion can do for people if they believe in it but it’s not for me.”

“It’s funny,” Mark says. “We’re all training to be Paladins but Joss is the only one who’s religious.”

“Hey, just because I don’t go to church doesn’t mean I don’t trust in The Machine.” Shaw protests.

“Yeah, you don’t need to be devout to appreciate the intel.” Kara adds.

“No, I get it.” John answers. “You hear Paladin and you think holy warrior, even though these days we only operate through secular organizations.”

“You’ve been watching too many action vids on the com.” Kara starts to tease but then her expression changes from amusement to something else, “Oh shit.”

“What?” John and the others turn to see what’s shocked her. Like many bars, Kelly’s has a big screen telicom hanging in a corner tuned to a sports channel. Only instead of the basketball game the screen is showing breaking news.

“Where is that?” Carter whispers softly. The building is burning but the hole in the side isn’t from the fire. Only a bomb can create that sort of destruction.

“Turn up the sound.” Snow calls to the bartender. Now, the other patrons and the staff have noticed and everyone is staring at the com.

_ <<-uddites have claimed responsibility for the bombing of the Covington Server House in Cedar Rapids.>>   _

They listen in stunned silence as the reporter repeats that one of the violent factions of the Luddite movement known as the Avivores has claimed responsibility for the bombing. Fourteen people are presumed dead including the bomber.

“How do they know how many people were in there?” Snow whispers.

“The Server Houses have cams.” John answers dully. “The Machine would have provided the police and fire department with the information as soon as the bomb went off.”

“Don’t the Server Houses have scanners?” Shaw asks. “How’d they get the bomb inside?”

“There are jammers.” Kara sighs.

“And there are low tech ways block the scanners from getting an accurate read.” Carter adds. “They’re not even that hard to get.”

“Hell, all you’d have to do is wait until the person in front of you opened the door and toss a bag in over their head. The scanners would go off but it’d be too late.” Snow is shaking his head sorrowfully.

“You’d think The Machine could do something about the jam...” Kara begins and then stops. “It can’t can It?”

“Not by the current law.” Carter tells them. “Lots of people use jammers and blockers for legitimate reasons. Ten to one we will at some point.”

“Do you think we’ll ever go up against groups like that?” Shaw asks.

“I think it’s more the Law Enforcement than us.” Snow tells her.

“I think I’m going to call it a night.” John tells the others. He knows Harold’s safe, the Luddites wouldn’t dare try something like this in New York. There is no way they would dare attack the Centralis Processui, would they?


	9. The Soldier In The Server House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reese's first visit to the Servo Domum Cathedral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little chapter about what happens when John gets back from his evening out.

It’s only been a little over a month but the Church complex feels homey and familiar to John as he emerges from the subway. He glances around as he walks towards the gate. After the bombing he would have expected heightened security but he see no obvious signs, just the normal scanners and security cams plus a few unarmed guards patrolling the grounds.

He wonders if he should be worried for his husband. Is Finch in danger living here? Surely security is tight enough here of all places. It does not occur to him to wonder if he should be worried for himself.  
It is not that the bombing hasn’t affected things. A group of fifty or so is holding a vigil in the Founder’s Garden. John notes additional bunches of flowers and LED votives arranged before the statue of the First Administrator outside the Athenaeum. More lights than usual are shining through the windows of the building. The Administrator and his staff coping with the crisis he supposes.

“Lieutenant Reese?” The acolyte emerging from the House of The Birds isn’t his husband but he is not unknown to John. 

“Acolyte Mockingbird,” John isn’t sure if Finch’s best friend likes him or not. The other man had been genial enough the few times they had met, but not overly friendly. Harold had scoffed at the idea but John couldn’t help but wonder of the other man was jealous of John. 

“Harold’s class was canceled and he went over to the cathedral.” Mockingbird tells him. “He likes to go there when there are no services, just to be quiet and meditate.”

“Okay?” He thinks the acolyte is trying to communicate more than Finch’s location but John’s not sure he’s inferring the correct message..

“Look, I don’t know what Harold’s told you about himself.” Mockingbird seems genuinely worried about betraying a confidence but at the same time worried that John might not understand what his husband needs. 

“Enough,” John admits. Finch had told him he’d told the other acolyte a bit of his past. “How upset is he?”

“Pretty bad, we all are.” Mockingbird sighs. “I sat with him for awhile but I’m scheduled for duty in fifteen minutes.”

John nods, now understanding what the other man is trying to say. “Maybe I’ll go sit with him for a bit. You said he’s in the cathedral?”

“Yeah, he’s about halfway down on the right side.” 

“Thanks,” John nods.

Mockingbird hesitates a moment before heading off. 

John has never been inside the Servo Domum Cathedral before today. The few services he’s attended here have been in the smaller chapel attached to the House of The Birds. He’s seen pics of course but they hardly do the building justice. 

He walks up the central aisle past rows of pews. How many people can fit in the sanctuary? It must be thousands. He pauses to study the famous roof. Hundreds of artists have each added to the animated images of birds that flit randomly across the LCD Panels that cover the ceiling. He watches a realistic sparrow chase an oddly cubist seagull while a cartoonish emu struts by. 

There are a handful of devout occupying scattered pews, each silent and remote. Reese picks his husband out from among them.

He sidles into the pew and settles beside the smaller man. Finch does not look up, wrapped in his contemplation. John tries not to mind. The pews have built in in-puters, for prayers he guesses, and displays set in the back of the pew in front of them. They had those at the Server House in Washington, John remembers from the few times he attended services. His grandma had told him and Sophie that they could translate the service into any language a parishioner might want. 

He sits quietly and listens to low hum of the processors. Normally the drone is all but unnoticed, but in the quiet silence of the sanctuary it seems louder than normal. The usually steady whir sounds different to John tonight, more like the quiet murmur of a crowd, soft, indistinct but rising and falling like someone is whispering to him. What is It saying? There is a pattern, a cadence to it. Who is It speaking to? To Finch? To one of the other faithful? To him?

A hand is touching his own. John glances over at his husband. Finch greets him with a small smile and stands. Feeling oddly disjointed, John rises and follows Finch out of the pew, back down the aisle and outside into the cool night. How long were they inside? 

“Thank you for sitting with me.” Finch is saying.

“It’s okay.” The chronometer in the tower display says he was only in there for about twenty minutes, why does it feel longer? “How are you doing?”

“I,” Finch hesitates for a moment. “I’m still upset about what happened, but I’m coping. You?”

“I’m fine,” John isn’t lying because he’s fine. He was just tired and had a beer too many. “Worried about you.”

Finch stands on tiptoes so he can press a quick kiss to John’s cheek. “Thank you, but I’ll be alright. Did you have fun with your friends?”

“It was okay,” John wraps an arm around his husband and steers them towards the House of The Birds. “You should come along the next time.”

“I wouldn’t mind meeting them sometime,” Finch answers agreeably.

He’s fine, John tells himself, and you’re fine. You were upset at the news and worried about your husband. You let your imagination run away with you.

Neither man notices the way the security cams follow their progress from the Servo Domum to the House of The Birds.


	10. Flushing Out The Hidden Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are discovered revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry it's taken so long for this chapter. I've started a new job and things have been more than a little crazy.

_The trick is to go about it indirectly._

_It had taken Jeremy Lambert three weeks to set up the story he needed to get inside the care facility records.  A word here, a bribe there and the press is full of a scandal involving medical fraud to give him a plausible excuse to audit the facility’s records.  Looking at one man’s files would have caused comment, but looking through dozens of files and no one notices if he spends a minute or two longer with one._

_The name is obviously an alias but that doesn’t worry him.  Once he has the information he needs, it just takes another week to track down an old medical file for man with a different name but the same medical statistics.  He could have found it in seconds if he’d been able to run it directly but secrecy is paramount.  In the end, it’s worth it.  He has a real name and an address in rural Iowa._

_There is enough public information that he can find things out directly.  When he has a complete enough picture he goes to Greer._

_“Very good, Mr. Lambert,” Greer tell him.  “I have something else I need you to do.”_

_A little research gives him a credible cover story to explain his presence in Iowa.  He’s puzzled by Greer’s instructions but he knows better than to disobey his superior.  It’s easier than he expects to drop hints as he asks questions._

  

* * *

 

  

He had looked for Harry after the raid and not just because the kid had been useful.  It didn’t surprise him that the Feds had captured the boy.  The kid had no sense when it came to his father and there was no way the old man could have gotten far. 

 The question now is what would the Feds do with Harry?  They’re in no position to mount a rescue, not against the FBI. 

 With luck, Harry’d keep his mouth shut about everything.  Make the authorities think he’s some innocent kid caught up in a situation beyond his control.  The Feds would stick the kid in the foster system and he’d be able to retrieve the boy easy enough.

 Worst case, the Fed’s would figure out what the kid had been doing and lock him up.  That would make things difficult but not impossible.  Breaking the kid out of a juvie facility shouldn’t be too hard.  If the kid got sent to regular prison, well, they had people inside.  He’d get Harry back sooner or later.

 Only it hadn’t gone down like that.  They’d kept watch but Harry and his father had disappeared into thin air.  They had tried to find out more but run into a wall.  They don’t have many informants in the FBI and the ones they have either don’t know or aren’t talking.  Whatever had happened to the kid, he can’t find out.  It’s frustrating.

 In the end, he’d had to give up.  They had a cause, a war to fight.  One boy, no matter how useful and no matter how enjoyable, wasn’t worth the effort.  So after all these years he’d been stunned when one of his regular informants came to him with a lead.

 “There’s a guy in town looking for a kid,” Monica reports.  “He says she ran away from her aunt’s house in New York.  She was one of the ones that got captured after the big raid.”

 Zebuleon Dix nods encouragingly.  There were dozens of kids left behind after the raid.  Most were placed with relatives or in foster care.  They’d managed to rescue some of them but they hadn’t bothered with the ones too far away or the ones with no parents to fuss over their absence.

 “Anyhow, he was telling the sheriff that he went to some nursing home to talk to an old guy who’d been rescued in the same raid but his Alzheimer’s was too bad to help.”  Monica continues.  “But, the old man’s son was there visiting him and he was the one who mentioned Lassiter.”

 “Did he mention the son’s name?”  Zebuleon asks.  His voice is steady and his expression serene but inside he is churning.  After all these years, he finally has a lead on Harry.

 “Yeah but he also said the son is an acolyte.”

 The woman doesn’t need to explain further, he knows what she is saying.  That damnable Machine has gotten to Harry.  The boy always was too good with the fucking coms.

 “Thank you, Monica.”  Dix nods again.  “You’ve done well.”  He needs to think.

  

* * *

 

  _Jeremy Lambert hits the stop button on the recorder and waits for Mr. Greer to comment.  The older man looks pleased.  Planting a bug on the sheriff’s secretary had been a good call._

_“Excellent,” Greer tells him.  “It couldn’t be going better.”_

_“Sir, if I may ask…”  Lambert hesitates.  It doesn’t do to question Greer but if he’s timed it right, he might be able to satisfy his curiosity._

_“Why did I want you to reveal Finch to the Luddite prophet?”  Green smiles coldly.  “I have several reasons, Mr. Lambert.  Suffice to say, I’m curious as to how the young acolyte and his soldier are going to cope with Mr. Dix’s attention._


	11. The Cry Of The Nightbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finch is trying to deal with bad memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may guess from the chapter title, there's a bit of angst in this chapter. There's memories of past abuse that are causing emotional distress. Please be warned.

It’s absolutely ridiculous, Finch thinks to  himself as he flops over to stares at the ceiling.  He’s a grown man, an acolyte of The Machine less than a year from being ordained.  There is no reason his husband’s absence should leave him unable to sleep.

He glances at the chronometer, just after midnight.  John hadn’t been sure how late his training exercise would last.  

“Don’t wait up for me,” John had told him that morning as they kissed each other goodbye.  It was a perfectly sensible suggestion that the acolyte had no intention of ignoring.  Therefore, he’d gone to bed at the normal hour but sleep has proved elusive.

He misses John.  It’s an odd thought.  He’s only been sleeping with his husband for a few months now.  He’s never spent the night with any of his previous lovers, male or female, but John has fit himself into Finch’s life and bed so smoothly.  Whatever worries he’d had beforehand had faded away.  Except for  a few nightmares in the beginning, he’s adapted to John’s presence easily.

He wonders if John had also worried about fitting his life with Finch’s before he moved in?  He hadn’t noticed anything but John is rather self-contained.  Would he have said anything?  Will he say something if he’s unhappy?

The quiet sound of the apartment door opening  in the main room interrupts his thoughts.  

“John?”  Finch calls softly, sitting up and turning on the light.

“Hey,”  John slips into the bedroom. Despite the lateness of the hour, he doesn’t look sleepy.  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Finch confesses.  Now, John looks worried.

“You okay?”  He comes over and sits on the edge of the bed, brushing Finch’s hair out of his face.

“I missed you.”  Finch admits.  John grins at this, relieved and seemingly pleased by the confession..

“Yeah?”  He bends down and presses a gentle kiss to Finch’s mouth.  “That’s sweet of you.”

“How was your training?”  Harold asks as John rises and starts undressing.

“Not bad,”  John tells him.  “Everybody got through in good time despite it being so dark.  Being guided by the Surveils worked better than expected.”  

John glances over at his husband before pulling off his boxers and sauntering into the bathroom nude.  

Finch smiles at the silent invitation, well why not?  They’re both awake and sex might help him relax and fall asleep.  He crawls out of bed and pulls his sleep pants and tee shirt off.  He considers crawling back into bed and waiting under the covers.  Why should he be nervous about being naked in front of John?  There is nothing to be frightened of, John will stop if Finch says no unlike…he doesn’t want to think about that.

He manages a smile as John emerges from the bathroom.  John grins in return.  

“I’m a lucky man,”  John announces.

“Yes?”  Finch crosses the room and wraps his arms around the taller man.  “Why is that?”

“I have a beautiful husband to come home to.”  John pulls Finch close and kisses him.  

There are times when Finch wishes he were taller.  Kissing John is lovely but the 15 centimeters difference in their heights make it awkward when they’re standing up.

“We should, we should get into bed.”  He suggests to his husband.

“Yeah,”  John growls happily.  “How do you want me?”

Finch considers a moment before guiding John so he’s lying across the middle the bed.  John scots up so he’s completely on the mattress as Finch crawls across the bed and straddles John’s lap.  Finch settles on John’s thighs and checks,  “I’m not too heavy, am I?”

“You’re perfect.”  John assures him guiding him down for another kiss.  He retrieves the lubricant from the drawer.

Finch wonders what John would say if he asked his husband to use the gel to prepare him for anal intercourse.  John’s never complained about Finch’s reluctance when it comes to certain sexual acts.  Thus far, he seems happy with with whatever Finch is willing to do.   Does he want more?  Is he growing impatient with his husband’s reluctance?

John pulls him closer so their dicks rub together.  “So good, Harold.”  He moans softly between kisses.

Lots of men like anal sex. John likes it.  Finch rubs himself against his husband while trying to imagine what it would feel like to sink down on his husband’s cock.  John always looks so ecstatic when they do that.  Would it feel good or would it hurt like....Finch wraps his arms around John’s neck and pulls him close for a kiss.  Don’t think about him, think about John, he tells himself.  

John moans happily and wraps his hand around both their cocks.  “So good.”  He mutters between kisses.

“Yes,”  Finch covers his husband’s face with kisses.  This wonderful, beautiful man is his, thank The Machine. “John, oh John.”  He can feel his orgasm building in his belly.  Close, he’s so very close.  Then John’s big hand gently squeezes just so and he is spurting all over his husband’s fist.  John follows with a triumphant laugh.

Harold leans forward and rests his head on John’s shoulder.  He watches as John lifts a finger to his mouth to taste their mixed seed.

“You like that?”  Finch asks, curiously.  

“Mmm,”  John hums and presses a kiss to Finch’s temple.  “Yeah.  Mind you, it’s an acquired taste.”

Finch trails his fingers through the viscous fluid.  It wouldn’t take much effort to lift his hand.  He would just have to bring it close enough to touch with his tongue.  

“Are you okay?”

Finch realizes he’s been staring at his come covered fingers.  John is looking worried.

“Do you ever wish I’d do more?”  Finch blurts out.  

“I …”  John looks puzzled.  “What do you mean more?”

“Do you want to penetrate me?”  Harold asks.  Proud he doesn’t stumble over the word.  

John still seems puzzled or is he worried?

“What brought this on?”  John asks.

“I’ve just been thinking about it.”  Finch tells him.  “Do you want that?”

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do,”  John responds which is sweet if frustrating.  

“I just, I think about it sometimes,”  Finch sighs and rests his head on John’s shoulder.  “What it would be like with you and then I remember him and I can’t.  I’m sorry, John, but I just can’t.”

“Shhh,”  John croons, rocking him gently, stroking his back.  “It’s alright, sweetheart.  Lot’s of guys don’t like that, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does too,”  Finch protests.  “I don’t even know if I’d like having anal sex with you.  He took that away from me.”

He’s crying.  Suddenly so furiously angry, so enraged by the unfairness of it all.  Why couldn’t they have left them alone?  He’d been happy with his father, with his friends, with his life.  Why had they taken it all away?

John is stroking his back and crooning softly, trying to comfort him.  It’s so unfair to John too.  John deserves better than this.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,”  John is whispering.  

Harold realizes he’s still apologizing over and over between sobs.  He should explain but he can’t catch his breath.  So he just cries until he cannot cry any more.  

When he’s too tired to cry any longer, he lies passive and silent as John gently wipes his face with a clean washcloth before cleaning the rest of him.  He lets John bundle him under the covers and falls into an exhausted sleep.


	12. The Acolyte's Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Finch talk about what Finch revealed the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's angst and discussion of past abuse of a minor. Nothing graphic but fair warning.

It’s hard to tell with the polarization engaged on the window glass, but John’s pretty sure it’s later than it should be when he wakes.

He rolls over to check on his husband. Finch is still asleep beside him. Good. Whatever issues there are with the both of them being late for their respective trainings, John will deal. Finch still looks drawn and fragile. John doesn’t want to leave him alone today. 

The soldier slips out from under the covers as quietly as possible. Out of bed, he pauses to adjust the duvet around his husband’s shoulders. He silently retrieves sweatpants, a tee shirt and his PalmCom the dresser before retreating to the living area to dress. 

A glance at the chronometer confirms it’s even later than he thought. Oh well, John’s not overly concerned with getting in trouble. Not after last night’s revelations.

Suddenly overwhelmed, John drops into a chair, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. It explains so much about Finch, his skittishness, his secrecy, his occasional nightmare, his aversion to certain sex acts. It makes John sick to think that he may have frightened or intimidated Finch out of ignorance. 

Damn it to hell! He’d known Finch was holding something back. He’d known that his husband was still seeing a counselor. He’d even suspected Finch had been abused. Why hadn’t he tried to talk it out with Harold? Why hadn’t he pushed? 

Because pushing would have been the worst thing he could have done. John trusts his instincts and they’re telling him Finch hadn’t brought it up for a reason. If his husband hadn’t been ready to tell him then pushing would not have helped. Finch needs gentleness, compassion and patience. However hard it is for John it must be infinitely worse for Harold. He vows that he will be the kind of husband Harold needs no matter how difficult it is.

John sighs. Right no he really wants to beat the crap out of whoever hurt Harold not to mention Harold’s brothers. The Luddite one, Gerald, had he known about the molestation? Had he be the molester himself? The idea is disgusting but this is the same man who destroyed his own father’s mind by refusing him needed medication. What’s abusing his brother or allowing him to be abused compared to that?

John runs a hand through his close cropped hair. The abuser whoever he was is out of his reach for now. Best just deal with things here for now. The soldier opens the email function on his PalmCom. He’ll need to send a message to the officer in charge of Paladin training and Harold’s supervisor explaining their absence. 

A few seconds later the young officer is reading the first of three new messages in his inbox. It doesn’t make sense.

One Day Leave granted to Lieutenant John Reese for personal family business.

Which is great and all, only he never requested leave. He’d been too wrapped up with comforting Harold last night, to exhausted by the late hour and the emotional overload.

The second message is a cc of an email addressed to Finch from his supervising presbyter stating that Acolyte Finch has been excused from today’s duties and lessons due to personal reasons. Again, it’s good news but, again, John hadn’t sent a request to Presbyter Crane and he rather doubted Finch had been in any shape to do so either. 

The last message is a notification from Finch’s counselor’s office stating that an emergency session had been scheduled for later this afternoon.

John regards the screen consideringly. His and Finch’s PalmComs had both been in the bedroom last night and Finch had a tablet on top of his bedside table. According to the Technical Gospels, The Machine can speak through any com.

The young soldier turns off the screen and heads for the kitchen. They have a couple of hours before Finch’s appointment with his counselor and John has a sudden yen for comfort food. Hopefully they have the ingredients he needs to make his grandma’s french toast.

He is beating the eggs and milk when Harold emerges from the bedroom. John puts down the whisk and studies his husband. The smaller man looks tired and wan. He tries to manage a smile for John but it’s not quite successful. 

“What are you making?” His normal light tone is rough. Probably sore from all the crying last night. 

John wants to cross the room and take him in his arms but he’s not sure how his touch will be received. So, he retrieves the container of tea from the shelf. “French toast, and there’s hot water for your tea.”

“Thank you,” Finch hesitates in the doorway, uncertainly. John can’t bear it any longer. He opens his arms and Finch is across the room, safely enfolded and clinging to him.

“I’m sorry…” Finch starts, but John shushes him.

“Don’t apologize,” He presses a gentle kiss to Harold’s temple and nuzzles the soft hair. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have told you,” Finch sighs. “I just couldn’t think how to say it.”

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready.” Reese assures him. 

“I think I need to tell you now.” Finch admits. 

“After breakfast,” John suggests and Finch nods.

Replete with french toast they settle on the sofa. 

“I’m not sure how to begin.” Finch confesses to him.

“Don’t worry about it,” John wraps a gentle arm around the smaller man. “How old were you?”

“Fifteen, the Luddites hadn’t allowed any of the kids to go back to school that Fall. I knew it was a bad sign. They’d always paid lip service to the law before. Even worse, no one in authority had come to inquire about it.” Finch grimaces. “Or, if someone had, they’d done something about. So, I was terrified when Gerald made me come and meet with Zebuleon Dix.

“The prophet?” John had heard a lot about the man in various newscasts over the years. He was reputed to be the driving force behind the violent branch of the Luddites. “What did he want with you.”

“He wanted to use me,” Finch tells him. “While he claimed to hate all coms, he was smart enough to know that his group of terrorists wouldn’t last long unless they could do something about all the surveillance cams and com monitored alarms. Gerry told him I was good with coms and he decided to use me to hack into the security systems.”

“Why you?” John wants to know. A teenaged boy would be easy to control, especially if they had his father for a hostage. Still, surely there would have been true-believers in the group willing to do anything for their cause. Com Science is a mandatory class at most schools. One of them ought to have been able handle jamming cam transmissions and turning off alarm systems.

“I’m not sure,” Finch sighs. “Maybe it was just because I was available. It could have even been he had his eye on me for a while. He creeped me out at that meeting. I’d seen him before, around the compound and at his sermonizings but he never seemed to pay any attention to me.”

“Now he was?” John asks. 

“Yes,” Harold glances up at John before continuing. “I wasn’t completely innocent. There had been a few girls and guys at school. Nothing too outrageous, some kissing a little petting.” He shakes his head. “Dix though, I knew there was something wrong with the way he was looking at me.”

“He was the one that hurt you?” John quietly resolves that if he ever has the chance he’s going to kill that bastard.

“I knew I didn’t have any choice.” Harold rests his head on John’s shoulder. “Defying him would just get me beaten. Running away, I’d already seen how impossible it was. Even if I could have snuck out and evaded the patrols, it was a good forty miles to the nearest town and Dix had spies everywhere. Besides, I couldn’t leave dad there and there was no way he could make it.” 

John can feel the shudder run through his husband’s body.

“So I didn’t fight Dix. I just lay there and let him do whatever he wanted.” John can hear the pain, the long suppressed rage at his own helplessness, in Harold’s voice. He pulls Finch close, trying to sooth him. 

“He acted like it was perfectly normal for him to take a boy half his age to bed.” Finch tells him. “It was like he thought I was his boyfriend or something.”

“It wasn’t just that one time, was it?” John checks, not sure he wants to know. How could Harold’s brother have allowed this perversity? Or, had the scumbag pimped his own brother out to his leader?

“No,” Finch sounds grim. “It went on for a good year. If anyone at the compound had problems with it, they never said anything in my hearing. Dad tried to object a few times, he does have a few lucid moments, but they never last and he wasn’t really capable of doing much anyhow.”

“It went on until the raid?” Reese asks. He’s going to have to go to the gym sometime soon and try and burn out some of his fury in physical exertion. He’s keeping most of it under tight rein, not wanting to scare his husband but he needs an outlet for all the bile churning in his belly. A long run, some time with the heavy bag, lifting weights; something to push his body to his limits and calm the need to lash out at the beings that dared to hurt this sweet man.

Finch nods but there is a bit of a smile playing on his face.

“What?” John asks. He’s seen that smile a few times before when Finch was telling him about something clever he had done.

“They weren’t watching me closely when I was hacking the security systems for them.” Finch explains. “They went out at least once a week, to destroy tech, to steal supplies, to scout out new targets. As long as they thought I was doing what I was supposed to do, they weren’t checking to make sure that was all I did.”

Understanding dawns on John, “While you were hacking the systems you were leaving clues for the authorities.”

Finch nods, “Not much at first, but when I realized I started to include as much intel as I could: names, locations, plans for future raids, anything I could think of.”

“So when the feds finally raided the compound…”

“I had been feeding them information about the place for months.” Finch smiles. “Thanks to me they knew where the guards were, their schedule, where the weapons were stored, exactly where they needed to hit and how hard.”

“You’re amazing,” John tells Harold. He is honestly impressed. “No wonder The Machine wants you for a Surveil.”

“Do you really think so?” Finch looks surprised, like the idea never occurred to him before.

“If you could do all that as a teenager, I can’t imagine how amazing you’ll be now.”

“I...thank you.” Finch looks pleased by the compliment. “Would you…? My counselor suggested I ask you to come to one of my appointments. Maybe this afternoon you could…?”

“I’d be honored, Harold.” John presses a kiss to his husband’s lips, feeling suddenly hopeful. They’re going to make this work, him and Finch.


	13. September Celebrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two birthday parties, one conversation and another villain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Michael Emerson and Jim Caviezel have birthdays in September, I decided that so do Finch and Reese

It turns out that both their birthdays are in September.  Finch’s is first, on the seventh, and John finds himself in the middle of a small but cheerful party in their apartment with a half dozen acolytes and one of Harold’s “civilian” friends.  The acolytes are friendly enough, the friend less so.

“So you are the man that married Harold?”  The oddly intense young man with dark curly hair regards John thoughtfully.  “At least you’re pretty.”

“Let it be Artie,”  Acolyte Mockingbird intervenes before John can figure out if he’s been insulted or complimented.  Artie snorts but he stops baiting John and joins the rest of the group in a discussion of nanorobotics.

“He dated Harold at school.”  Mockingbird explains to John in a low undertone.

“I take it that it didn’t work out?”  John asks.  He’s not jealous of anyone Harold dated before they met but that doesn’t stop him from feeling curious..

“I’m not sure Harold knew they were dating.”  Mockingbird grins at the memory,  “And, to be fair, I think Artie figured it out pretty quick that Harold was happier being friends than lovers.”

“Is that what happened with you and Harold?”  It’s probably not a fair question to spring on the other man but John’s still trying to figure out his husband’s relationship with Nathan Ingram.  Finch says they’ve been best friends since university but John can’t help but wonder about the relationship.  Mockingbird is very obviously devoted to Finch.  Did he ever wish for more?

Mockingbird doesn’t seem bothered by John’s curiosity.  He cocks a thoughtful eyebrow at  John before smiling ruefully.  

“I was attracted to him from the first,”  Nathan confesses.  “I remember thinking how lucky I was when he walked into our dorm room with Wren.  He was beautiful, smart, interesting.  Well, you know.”

John does know so he nods.  

“He was also scared.”  Nathan sighs.  “I didn’t know why, not then, but.thank The Machine I was observant enough to notice.  Otherwise, I could have really fucked things up.”

Both men consider this silently, watching as one of  acolytes across does an apparently hilarious impersonation of Pampas pipit.  John suspects it might be time to cut off the booze.  

“So, I made a choice,”  Mockingbird continues.  “I could try and seduce him or I could be what he really needed.”

“A friend?” John offers.

“A brother,”  Mockingbird corrects.  “I hope he’s told you..?”

“Yeah,”  John nods grimly.  “We’re dealing with it.”  He still really wants to beat the crap out of someone but he’s coping.  Somehow his schedule has been rearranged so he can attend therapy session with Finch.  The counselor is please and Finch is grateful that John ise willing to work with him.  It seems to be helping, Finch is a lot more relaxed these days so John figures it’s worth it.

“Do you regret it?”  Which is also an unfair question but John really needs to know.

“No.”  Mockingbird answers quickly and easily.  “I can’t, not after he told me a little bit about what happened to him.  If I’d pushed for a sexual relationship back then, I’d have lost him forever.  Instead I got the dearest friend I’ve ever had and the brother I’ve always wanted.  There’s nothing to regret about that.”

“So, we’re okay?”  John checks.

“The Machine thinks you’re good for Harold and I believe in The Machine,”  The acolyte reminds him.  Ingram’s faith is reassuring.  “I also believe in Harold and he seems to be fond of you.”

“Yeah?”  John can’t suppress his grin at that.  “I’m pretty fond of him myself.”

“Good,”  Ingram holds up his drink and John clinks his beer bottle against the side of the glass.  “Here’s to the two of you.”

 

* * *

  

John’s birthday on the twenty-sixth, is celebrated in the backroom of a bar near the base.  A couple of fellow trainees have brought dates so Finch isn’t the only person who’s neither an official Surveil trainee nor Paladin trainee.  

John is astounded when Harold shows up in civilian clothes.  Except for  his jogging clothes, John’s never seen his husband out of their apartment in anything but his clericals.  Finch looks strangely young in khaki trousers and a dark gray pullover.

“He’s cute,”  Carter tells him as they wait at the bar for their drinks.  Finch is across the room chatting with Shaw and one of the Surveil trainees.

“Yeah,”  John doesn’t bother to hide his grin.  There is something oddly alluring about Harold in civies.  Carter laughs.  

Cute seems to be the common consensus.  Shaw, Stanton and Snow all tease John a bit about Harold but nothing he can’t handle.  They’re all nice to Finch, friendly and welcoming as is everyone else.  Finch seems to like them all too.  He’s relaxed and open, joining in the fun and openly affectionate with John.  John can’t stop smiling.

In fact, there is only one incident to spoil the absolute perfection of the evening.  John hadn’t thought anything of it when Harold slipped out of the room, they have to go through to the main room to use the restrooms.  However, he does notice when Finch is a long time in returning.

John manages to edge around the crowd  of trainees to glance out the door.  A blond man has backed Finch to the wall and is bending a little too close and smiling down at him.  John knows his husband well enough to see that, while he’s not intimidated, he’s not enjoying the attention either.

John crosses over to Harold.  He can’t blame the other man for his taste but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stand by while someone hits on his husband  “Sweetheart?”  He checks with Finch to see how he should handle this.

Harold smiles at him before glancing back at the other man, “Excuse me, please?”  He requests with polite coolness and slips around the stranger to join John.

The blond looks mildly annoyed and disappointed but he makes no protest.  Just as well, John doesn’t want to spoil his birthday with a fight.  The man’s about John’s height and looks like he’s in pretty good shape. Finch slips his arm around John and John drapes his arm over Finch’s shoulder.  

“Nice to meet you,”  Finch offers before leading John away.  John glances back as he and Harold head back to his party, but the man is heading to the bar for another drink.  

“Who was that?”  He asks Finch.

“He said his name was Rick,”  Finch tells him before changing the subject.  “How late do you think the party will go?”

“Not too late,”  John tells him and promptly forgets about the other man.  

 

* * *

  

_Rick Dillinger claims an empty barstool and orders a drink.  Interesting, he’d been briefed on his target but no one had mentioned the acolyte had himself a protective boyfriend.  He’d seen the guy when he started spying out the target but tonight is the first confirmation that they’re more than friends._

_He considers his options as he sips his drink.  The problem is his target rarely goes anywhere alone these days, at least nowhere outside the church complex.  The big soldier is with him on visits to his father and appointment with his therapist.  A couple of Paladin trainees had even picked him up tonight._

_Getting in the complex isn’t impossible but getting the target out without being caught is all but impossible.  The security scanners and the cams that cover the place ensure that.  Some of the acolytes go out as part of their ministry but the target isn’t one of them.  Too bad, that’d be the easiest way to snatch him._

_Could he take down the big guy before grabbing the target on one of their excursions?  Doable but still risky.  If the target has a personal alarm and Rick’s pretty sure he does, all he needs is a second to activate it.  If he had a team he might be able to make it work but Rick’s not sure he wants to go recruiting in New York City.  Besides more bodies equals more expenses and while the money is good it’s not that good._

_He’d hoped that approaching the target tonight might give him an idea on how likely it would be for him to get the target to go with him willingly.  Long shot again, but worth the attempt.  Anyhow, the target’s reaction was just what Rick had expected._

_Still Rick’s not the sort to give up easily, not when the money’s so good.  He’ll need a distraction of some kind.  Something to separate the target from his boyfriend, preferably away from the church complex.  New York has lots of cams but there are blind spots._

_Rick Dillinger silently raises his glass.  Watch out Harold, trouble is coming for you._


	14. The Bird in The Snare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an explosion and Finch finds himself kidnapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken awhile but the action is heating up.

Everything had been going so well. It’s all Harold can think as he lies on the cold hard floor of the speeding van. He’d been nervous about the visit but John’s family had been lovely and they’d all been nice to him. He’d been slightly overwhelmed and John had been delighted by his family's effusive welcome. He and John had both gotten leave from their training to spend time with the Reeses. 

“They really do like you,” John had assured him as they cuddled together in bed. Had it only been last night? “Sophie thinks you’re cute, Mom thinks you’re sweet and my Dad thinks you’re the perfect guy for me.”

“Was he worried about his approval?” Harold had asked. He’d been slightly intimidated by Conner Reese knowing how much John revered his father, but the older man had been genial and friendly. 

“A bit, yeah,” John had shrugged and smiled. “When I told him about you after we got married, Dad said he was sure you’re a nice guy but that doesn’t mean you’re the right guy for me. But, he told me tonight that he couldn’t imagine anyone better for me than you.”

Harold had been warmed by the praise. He and John were closer than ever. Somehow his and John’s schedules had been rearranged so they can both attend his counseling sessions. It was easier for Finch to talk to his husband about his past and John had to had opened up to him too. 

Learning more about John’s past had brought them closer. Harold knew how John had worried about his sister’s illness when he was young. He knew about John’s fears when his father had been wounded in the Asian war. He knew how John had gotten in trouble for fighting in school because he couldn’t bear to see anyone being bullied.

What had happened? His head hurts. His whole body aches but his head is the worst. Nathan, there was something about Nathan, Harold remembers. 

As part of his training, Mockingbird had been working on organizing a charitable drive to collect food for the poor. As part of the kickoff they were going to have a press conference and Nathan with his good looks and easy charm had been picked to make the announcement. He’d mentioned it to Finch in passing and Harold had decided to go down to the ferry landing to support his friend. John was taking his family on a tour of Fort Hamilton and Harold had planned to join them afterwards.

Finch remembers his friend turning and smiling when he’d seen Harold and then the world had exploded.

Please let Nathan be all right, he prays silently. His friend had been closer to the explosion. The bomb had knocked Finch off his feet. He can remember a man’s voice asking him if he was okay and a man’s hand’s helping to his feet and then he was looking down a long tunnel as blackness rushed up to him.

A bomb, it had to have been a bomb. Luddites? It’s impossible to live a tech free life in New York City. In any city really, there are coms, in-puters and cams everywhere. Even the more rural areas outside New York are fully online. Pretty much the whole east coast is online. There are a few small bastians, either uninhabited or held by some of the anti-tech religious sects but they’re not the sort to use violence or give aid to anyone who would. 

Would one of the more violent factions dare travel all this way? They are mostly hidden in the midwest and southwest. Vast open plains and deserts where settlements are sparse and there are still wide swaths of land not fully online because what’s the point when there’s little to see but corn or coyotes? The Luddites have mostly avoided the larger cities as security is too tight. Why come all this way when there are easier targets closer to home?

Unless, could Dix have found him? Not impossible, but how? He hasn’t gone by his real name in years. His school records and his Church records are under Harold Wren. Even his father is listed under the pseudonym at the care center. Only Wren, a few high ranking prelates, the Marshals and a few FBI agents know their real name. There are supposed to be alarms in the system to alert the authorities if anyone tries for an unauthorized look for either of them in the files. Of course there are ways around that, he could have hacked the system if he’d been inclined. Could Dix have found another hacker?

Calm, he thinks. You need to be calm. You’re not a helpless child anymore. The bindings at his wrist don’t prevent him from running his fingers over the fabric of his hood. Finch carefully traces the web of circuits sandwiched between the thin layers of fabric. If his captor had any sense, he have disposed of Harold’s palm-com and scanned him for tracers. Smart but not smart enough. 

The electronics in his hood are designed to fool the most sophisticated of scanners until they’re powered up. He considers the tiny lithium batteries hidden in his shirt buttons, the hair fine wires woven in the fabric of his vest, the microscopic machinery embedded in the frames of his oculars and the heels of his shoes and how they all are meant to work together. Reassured that The Machine is with him, Acolyte Finch hides his face in the folds of his hood and settles to wait for what happens next.


	15. The Soldier and The Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds out that Harold's been kidnapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am dedicating this chapter to Lisagarland who stayed up until 4am reading this fic. For goodness sakes, honey, get some rest.

 

John had just finished introducing his family to his friends and fellow trainees when the world went insane.

He is on the floor clutching his head with Shaw and his mother bending over him.  Noise, the noise in his head is gone but there is still noise.  Every palm-com, tablet, in-puter and com on the base is going crazy.

“Harold,” He manages to croak out.  Something has happened to Harold.  He can’t say how he knows but he knows.

“Stay still,” Shaw barks at him before turning towards one of the Surveil trainees.  “Try and locate Acolyte Finch,” She snaps.

“All the coms are screaming about a bombing in lower Manhattan,” Snow reports.

John groans and tries to sit up, only to have his mother and Shaw push him back down.

“Stay still, honey,” His mother pleads.  There are tears in her eyes.

“Sorry, Momma,” John manages.  He never wanted to scare his mother but he needs to find Harold.  Unfortunately, before he can do anything, a pair of EMTs arrive just then and start checking him out.

“He had what appeared to be a Tonic-clonic seizure lasting about 30 seconds,” Sameen is telling them.  “Followed by three minutes where he was holding his head and screaming in pain.  He’s been normal if slightly dazed for the last couple of minutes.”

“Shaw,” John begins.

“Reese,” She interrupts, “Go with them and get checked out.  You’re no good to Harold if you’re sick.”

“John,” Joss adds, “If you go with them now, we’ll all help you find Harold if need be.”

“Go with them now, Johnny,” His father orders and John sighs and lets them load him onto the gurney.

“We’re going to take him to the VA hospital that services the base,” One of the EMTs tells his dad.  

“We’ll get you there,” He hears Joss promise his parents as they wheel him away.

He’s arguing with the Doctor who wants to keep him overnight for observation despite the fact he can find nothing wrong with John besides a minor headache, when his friends show up at the hospital.

“What’s happening?”  He demands.  No one will tell him anything and the glimpses he’s gotten of the telicoms when he’s been moved through the hospital have not been reassuring.

“There was a car bomb near the Whitehall Ferry Terminal,” Mark reports. “The church was having some kind of press conference about some new charity drive.  Five people were killed and dozens wounded.  They haven’t released the names of all the dead yet but Acolyte Finch isn’t listed as dead or wounded.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”  John demands.  They are hiding something from him.

“The Machine has been sending images from a couple of cams to every law enforcement com in the city.”  Joss admits and hands him her palm-com.

John watches.  The angle's not great but he recognizes Finch walking down the sidewalk towards the waiting crowd.  There is a flash and boom and Harold falls to the ground, shocked and dazed by the explosion.  John watches as his husband starts to sit up when a stranger bends down to help Harold up. John watch as the man helps Finch scramble to his feet and then catch him when he faints.  The man half carries and half drags Harold out of sight of the cam.  The next cam image shows the same man loading Finch’s unconscious body into the back of a van, close the door, climb into the front seat and drive off.

“John.” Mark starts but falls silent when John holds up his hand.

“I know that guy,” John tells them.

“What?  The kidnapper?  How?”  Everyone is babbling.

“My birthday party.  He was at the bar.  He tried hitting on Harold but he backed off when I showed up.”  John remembers.  “Harold said he told him his name was Rick.”

“Okay, we’ll let the authorities know,”  Joss assures him.

“John, they can’t find this guy.  He drove the van to a private garage with no security cams.  He must have transferred Finch to another car.  They’re looking for all the other cars that left the garage but there are dozens of potentials and they’re having trouble finding some of them.”

“If he had any sense he’d do the same thing a couple of times,” Shaw sighs.  “There are plenty of private garages and storage places without cams.  Transfer two or three times and it’d be near impossible to track.”

“No,” John disagrees.  “Not impossible, not for The Machine.”

He swings his legs off the bed and starts looking for his shoes.

“What are you doing?”  Kara demands.  “Where do you think you’re going?”

“The Servo Domum Cathedral,” John tells her.  “I need to pray.”


	16. Becoming The Apostle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a conversation with The Machine and Finch has a conversation with his kidnapper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Real life has been a real jerk lately.

The whispering starts up again before they can get John out of the hospital. It’s soft at first, the low hum of electronics, the distant chirp of palm-coms growing more insistent and the urgent buzz of medical devices becoming frantic. No one else seems to notice, so John says nothing.

The noise doesn’t stop as they make their way back to Manhattan. John listens as best he can, ignoring the others’ looks and questions. He couldn’t say who drove the car, he’s not even sure who was in the vehicle with him. He concentrates on the sound, searching for a pattern to the cadence. Is it speaking to him? What is it trying to say? If only he could make out the words, if only he could understand. 

There is a crowd of people waiting at the church complex, a whole flock of clerics. They are squawking like a merle of blackbirds. John ignores them, ignores their questions, their demands for his attention. He pushes past them, striding towards the great bulk of the Servo Domum Cathedral. People are hurrying after him but it doesn’t matter to John. He sprints up the ramp, slips past the scanners and pushes open the great door to the Narthex and through to the Nave. 

The babble of the crowd goes quiet as they follow him into the Sanctuary. On the ceiling, the animated birds flit across the ceiling panels as John strides up the main aisle towards the Chancel Processus. They follow his path, gathering to watch from the arched roof of the apse as John moves to stand before the antique mainframe that serves as the Cathedral’s alter. 

John takes a deep breath and looks up toward the soaring ceiling. Between the edges of the LCD panels full of animated birds, he can see the tiny red light of one of the security cams. He stares it down, doing his best to match Its unblinking gaze.

“I can hear you,” He announces.

The crowd stirs, the birds flutter but the cam’s gaze is steady. The murmur in his brain sounds puzzled to his ears.

“I can hear you,” He repeats, willing The Machine to listen to his plea, “But I can’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

John ignores the frantic hubbub behind him, keeping his attention on that one cam. The Machine has gone silent in his head. Please, oh please, if this mechanical god has ever heard his prayers, let It hear this one.

“I need to find Finch, I need my husband and I think you want me to find him,” John swallows, “I can’t do this alone. I can’t find him. I can’t help him. I can’t bring him home. Not alone, I need your help.”

He’s not sure if it’s instinct or just desperation that cause him to fall to his knees like a supplicant.

“I can’t do this without him. Please, help me.” 

For one terrible moment, nothing happens then one of the painted birds darts away from the rest of the animated flock, flying up above him before diving down out of sight. John’s palm-com suddenly gives a frantic chirp. When John pulls it out of his pocket. A small bird with brown wings and a raspberry-red head and body stares back at him from the screen. It pecks the map icon and which opens to display a red blip moving down the line of a road.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The vehicle has been stopped for several minutes. They’ve been going too slow to still be on the highway but Finch doesn’t think they’ve left the road. Traffic? A roadblock? Could he be that lucky?

He used two of his batteries to secretly hack into the van’s computer. Another two batteries supplied him with the power needed to leap into the local traffic cam system and the last two to get from the cams into the national highway monitoring system. He can only hope and pray The Machine heard his SOS. He has only two batteries left. Should he save them or hope there is a police car with a com close enough for him to contact with the last little bit of power he has?

The van inches forward a bit and stops again.

How long has it been? How many hours since he was kidnapped? He’s tired, hungry and thirsty. His head is pounding and he still aches all over from being knocked down by the explosion. Lying on the floor of the van with his hands bound isn’t helping either. He wants to be home. He wants John, wants the comfort he’s learned to find in his husband’s arms. 

Someone will come, he’s sure of that. The Machine will never forsake him. They will come, they will arrest his kidnapper, they will free him and take him back to John. He has to believe, he has to put his faith in The Machine. 

Another driver blasts their horn impatiently. Would it be worth trying the backdoor to see if he can escape into traffic? It sounds as if there a quite a few cars out there. Surely, someone would help him.

The van makes a turn, they seem to be out of traffic. Surely, they can’t be driving all the way to Iowa without stopping? It would take half a day straight driving on the highway and they’ve been on side roads for a couple of hours now.

As if the driver sensed his thoughts, the vehicle turns in and parks somewhere. Finch presses his ear to the wall. He can just barely hear the driver open and shut his door. 

Finch waits a moment before crawling over and testing the back door, locked. Well, that was to be expected. Is there any way to get into the panel and try and jimmy the lock? He tests the hard-plastic panel covering the bottom of the door. He can probably pry it off. A minute’s exertion has a corner loose. Finch squints at the looking mechanism, maybe if he uses the edge of his belt buckle…

The scuff of a shoe on the gravel is the only warning he gets. Finch manages to push the panel back in place and scoot back from the door so that when his kidnapper opens the door, he is huddled innocently in the far corner. 

The blond man from the bar regards him without suspicion. Rick, Finch remembers, though he doubts it’s the man’s real name. He watches the man climb in and close the door behind him.

“Here,” The man sets down a steaming paper cup on the floor of the van, “We’re going to be here a couple of hours.”

Finch makes no move towards the cup. He’s thirsty enough to not care that it smells like chai but he’s too wary to accept the drink. The man sighs, picks up the cup and drinks a mouthful down. 

“It’s fine, go ahead,” He tells Finch. 

Harold is still nervous but he snatches up the cup and takes a cautious sip. It’s hot and comforting even if it isn’t his favorite Sencha green.

“Thank you,” He manages. The man gives him a smirk.

“You don’t look like a true believer,” Harold tries after a few minutes. 

“If you’re asking if I’m a Luddite, then you’re right, I’m not,” The man snorts, “This is strictly business.”

Finch considers his options. It’s worth a try, he decides. “I’ll pay you to let me go.”

“What sort of money does an acolyte have?” The man snorts.

“Give me five minutes and your Palm Com and I can ensure you’ll be living in the lap of luxury for the rest of your life,” Harold offers.

“Until the authorities track me down,” The man reminds him.

What does he think is going to happen, Finch wonders? The Machine will never tolerate this man to go free, not after the bombing. The church has a lot of money and a lot of political clout. There are very few places this man will be able to hide as it is. 

“There are countries that deny The Machine access to their banking information,” 

Finch isn’t going to remind his kidnapper how illusionary his current liberty is. Better to offer the fool some hope that he can get away. It’s worth trying to persuade the man that freeing him is his best option.

“Besides, do you really think Dix will pay you?”

“Why wouldn’t he? I’m giving him what he wants.”

Finch suppresses his shudder at the thought of what Zebuleon Dix wants with him. 

“He’s not in the habit of rewarding heretics who use coms,” He reminds his kidnapper. “I watched him kill men like you, dozens of times when I was a teenager. He’s not doing so well these days. Even true believers aren’t as willing to support him anymore, not after they heard about what he was doing in Lassiter. He has less followers, less support, less money. The authorities are giving him more trouble too. There are more cams everywhere, more coms monitoring everything, more oversight on the coms.” 

Finch studies the man’s face. He’s not sure if he’s getting through or not, “Give me your Palm Com and there’ll be a fortune waiting for you at the Banco do Brazil in Rio. Dump me somewhere where it’ll take me a couple of days to walk out. Go to Florida, steal a boat and get to Cuba or Haiti, fly to Brazil. The authorities won’t touch you, not for kidnapping, not when you can afford to be generous with your bribes. The Church won’t bother you as long as I’m returned safely. You can spend the rest of your life sipping rum on the beach or you can turn me over to Dix and get shot in the head for a reward.”

The man studies him for a moment, before turning and hoping out of the back door. He slams the door shut and Finch hears a heavy clank as the door is locked. 

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

John hadn’t really thought about what being a Paladin would be like. He knew they sometimes operated out of the normal chain of command but he never imagined something like this. 

For example, the Paladin in charge the mission isn’t even armed forces. Due to his experience with hostage situations, a NYC SWAT team commander is directing things. Not that he’s the only experienced Paladin. There’s also a couple of FBI agents as well as a National Guard Major who has dealt with everything from war to natural disasters. 

All their Surveils are tapping away on their coms making miracles happen. Equipment is suddenly available, orders are cut without protest, red tape is tossed aside. Reese knew the Church had influence but he didn’t think that would get them a couple of choppers for transport.

Monongahela National Forest in the Alleghany Mountains of West Virginia is the predicted location. Coms and cams are sparse on the smaller roads and trails. Easy enough for a group of Luddites to lie low by pretending to be campers or hunters. The police and forest rangers have been alerted.

John had half expected that he and his fellow trainees would be left behind but they’d been suited up, issued weapons and allowed to tag along. Though they were all under strict instructions to do exactly what they are told.

The Major had taken him aside and questioned him before they left.

“I need to know you can hold it together,” The man had been gruff but not unsympathetic, “You won’t do your husband any good by going off like a loose cannon. Tell me you can keep your cool or I’ll leave you here.”

“Sir,” John wants to rage at the man for daring to threaten to leave him behind, but, he’s right, damn it all. Harold needs him. “I can keep it professional as long as they haven’t hurt Harold.”

“Fair enough,” The older man tells John, patting his shoulder. It didn’t make John feel better.

The map app on his Palm Com is still showing the vehicle winding its way through the mountains and valleys.

“How are you doing?” Joss asks him.

John tries to smile at her but it comes out more like a grimace. 

“Hey,” She reaches over and squeezes his hand, “We’re going to get him back.

“I know,” He tells her, “I trust The Machine.”


End file.
